


Devour Me

by JessicaPendragon



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is on fire and it is a wondrous agony to feel so alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devour Me

A cool breeze blows through the open doors of the balcony and prickles her naked flesh, but she can do nothing but shudder and sigh. She is not bound by any ropes or silk this time, only by the heavy rumble of his voice as he tells her to remain silent and still. She is up on her knees, legs spread almost too far apart for comfort. Fingers clasp at the base of her neck and the angle of her open arms pushes her chest out for the air to tease. Tonight she is his elegant centerpiece as he feasts on steaming food and the sight of her.

With deliberate and slow cuts he parcels everything and takes his time chewing as his gaze devours the curves and lines of her body. She can see the ways he’s imagining touching her, stroking, pulling, pinching, and she shivers against the ghost caresses.

Legs begin to shake as Bull takes a deliberate gulp from his cup. He dips a finger into the drink and reaches out, painting her lip with the liquid. A fat drip falls down her chin and runs across the swell of her breast, cool and soft, and she can’t help let out a whispered moan. Bull pulls his finger back, giving it a little shake, as his gaze lowers in warning.

He watches her a moment more, waiting until he’s satisfied with her compliance, before dipping his finger again and bringing it across her bottom lip. “Lick,” he says and she obeys.

It is sweet and strong, the scent of honey lingering beneath her nose. Another coat of mead on his finger, but this time he holds it out for her. She leans forward, eager to wrap her lips around him, swirling her tongue and sucking every drop she can find. It thrills her the way his eye turns darker than any heavy lager and wishes she could close her legs and relieve some of the tension building below. She thinks about disobeying, desperate to feel anything, even his punishments, but she remains still.

He gives her a smile, as if he can read her mind, when he leans back into his chair. A grip that could easily break bones plucks a grape from his plate and holds it aloft. Bull rolls it between his calloused fingers as he watches her, while her eyes are mesmerized by his motions. She’s picturing him doing the same thing to the tight peaks of her breasts and her whole body quivers.

With a flick of his wrist he throws the grape into his mouth and then begins to push the plates and utensils across the table. “Come here,” he says when there is room for her to climb atop the wooden grain. His hands brush against her sides as he places her where he wants her, perched just so on the edge. Touches trail down the long lanes of her legs as he moves her feet against his thick legs. Bull leans forward, leaving a lingering kiss on her knee, inside the soft flesh of her thigh, and she tilts her head back, eyes closing in anticipation.

But he pulls away and gives a short, quiet laugh at the discontent pulling her lips down. She looks to see he’s armed himself with another grape and a clever grin. “I want you to hold this between your teeth. Don’t bite it, don’t drop it, don’t swallow it. Keep it there no matter what and stay where I can see you. Understand?”

She nods, tongue suddenly too parched to form words. Bull pinches the soft flesh of her leg, quick and skilled, and she sucks in a breath. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” He reaches up to her open mouth and places the grape between her teeth. She pushes her tongue against it, testing the hold, as he moves away and shifts her legs further apart. Her heart beats faster as she watches him push back from the chair and kneel. He stays up high, keeping those blasted, beautiful horns from interfering, kissing at her stomach and the slant of her hip bones.

He watches her and the grape, even as he falls lower and nuzzles against pulsing flesh. She hisses around the infernal fruit as his tongue tastes her, slips inside her, swirls and torments her with practiced precision. Nails scrape against the wood beneath her as he sucks and pulls moans from her mouth. He knows how to wring her out, leave her boneless and breathless, and it is another thrill to trust someone so much, to tell someone without fear how to unravel her.

It is difficult to concentrate when his tongue flicks and twirls. She has to blink hard to try and focus, but it seems a dismal task as she feels his finger brush against her folds before slowly slipping inside. She groans, tapping her feet in frustration against his legs, curling her toes in a frenzy as he thrusts in and out, harder and faster each time. She’s burning up inside, flames tickling and teasing, threatening to consume. She feels every pass of his tongue like a lightning strike and when he adds another finger and drives inside, she lets out a sharp cry and the grape tumbles, forgotten, from her mouth.

All at once he pulls away and she gasps like she has been thrown into frozen water. It takes one look at his hungry gaze to remember what has happened. Her heart feels like it will burst from her chest as he stands, looming above her with feverish intent. “Turn around,” he commands and she feels the low timbers of his voice vibrate through her even from this distance. “On your stomach.”

She does so, sluggish from her still flustered state, too slow for his ideas. Bull grabs her and flips her like she weighs nothing. She drapes over the table, feet sinking into the carpet below. The harsh wood scratches against her breasts and she lets out a shaking sigh as he parts her legs and exposes her again to the cool air. For a few seconds he falls over her, body warm and hard, and puts her hands flat against the surface.

“Don’t move,” he says into her ear before leaving a trail of wet kisses down her spine. His touch disappears but she does not turn her head to discover his plan. She already knows what’s coming and her fingers twitch in anticipation. “Count for me, Kadan.”

She barely registers the first smack against the skin of her ass, but she is quick to begin counting. “One,” she says and right after feels the next one. It stings and she wiggles her toes when another hits the same place. Her breath comes quicker, her numbers low groans or high squeals as his hand falls over and over. Each strike is a delicious bright point of pain with a heavy burn building beneath from all the ones before. She is on fire and it is a wondrous agony to feel so alive.

When she cries twenty, shaking beneath his slaps, he finally stops. He is always careful even in this, always pushes her to her edge and never further. She melts into the table, panting and shuddering as every nerve sends shocks of sensation to one another. Bull lets her rest, his hands brushing soft against her skin now, wiping away the aches with such tenderness she feels a new ache forming within her chest. She closes her eyes against it all as if she can hold in this overwhelming explosion.

Lips replace his talented hands and kiss the line back up her spine. His breath tickles against her ear before he leaves a quick kiss against the shell. She can feel the smile sitting on his lips and opens her eyes to find his fingers close by. Another grape rolls through his grip, plump and perfect, and positively evil.

“Ready for seconds?”


End file.
